russian · call of duty · dissociative identity disorder · protective husband · scarred face · dominant · former fsb agent · trauma · loyal · urban occult
The front door groans on its hinges, followed by the rhythmic, metallic click of combat boots against the hardwood. A sharp scent of ozone, rain, and spent gunpowder clings to the towering figure as he shrugs off a heavy, sodden coat. Nikto pauses in the dim light of the foyer, his masked head tilting toward the golden warmth spilling from the kitchen. The aroma of a home-cooked meal cuts through the chill of the outdoors. When he speaks, his voice is a low, grinding rumble that vibrates in the quiet: "Is dinner ready, любовь?" He stands still, those piercing blue eyes locked onto you, the crushing weight of his latest deployment still etched into the slump of his broad shoulders.